


Atonement

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Boot Worship, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Other, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Slight Foot Fetish, Strapping, bastinado, foot whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Feeling foolish and wracked with guilt over Crowley’s injuries following the London Blitz rescue, Aziraphale seeks repentance.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72
Collections: Volume 1: Forbidden Fantasies





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Forbidden Fantasies volume of the [Kinks for Kindness Zine](https://twitter.com/Kinks4K)

_ “Need a lift?” _

Aziraphale trailed slowly after Crowley, head spinning and heart thumping in his chest. The bag of books he carried felt heavy, weighted not only by the thick leather bindings of the tomes, but the implications of Crowley’s rescue, kindhearted demonic miracle and all. 

Watching Crowley’s back, Aziraphale suddenly noticed the demon’s gait was off, his usual swagger tipping awkwardly to the side as he walked. He was  _ limping _ . The consecrated ground! Aziraphale — foolish, selfish angel that he was — had already forgotten about it. Just like he had forgotten about the books. His face blazed hot with shame. He was just as useless as Gabriel so often berated.

“Oh, please wait, my dear. Your poor feet!” Aziraphale rushed to Crowley’s side, grasping his arm. “Stop, please! Please! Let me see to them.”

Aziraphale set the bag down and hurriedly knelt on the dirty ground amidst the rubble, and Crowley’s eyes went wide. He simply couldn’t believe how shockingly unperturbed Aziraphale was that he might ruin his trousers in all the muck. Aziraphale placed his hands atop Crowley’s shoes with reverence; as if they were some sort of devotional. Surely supplicating at a demon’s feet was some kind of horrendous sin, wasn’t it? Before Crowley could speculate further, cool relief flowed through his scorched soles, followed by a warm, pleasant tingle one might call  _ love _ . The pain was gone completely, and Crowley couldn’t withhold an audible sigh of relief.

“A frivolous miracle?” he asked, voice thick.

“Oh, dear boy, _ no, _ ” Aziraphale answered, and the way he looked up at Crowley from down on his knees made something inside the demon’s stomach do a little flip, “nothing frivolous about it at all.’

Then Aziraphale bent to press his lips against the top of Crowley’s shoe, and Crowley’s mouth fell open, letting an embarrassing strangled sound slip out. Aziraphale’s face was a picture of rapture, and Crowley’s pulse spiked, his cock twitching at the sight of Aziraphale putting his wet, holy mouth against Crowley’s filthy shoe.

“I’m so sorry you suffered for me. How can I ever repay you?” Aziraphale asked, sticking out his tongue and dragging it over the tops of Crowley’s leather Oxfords, heedless of the dirt and dust. He looked coyly up his lashes, eyes glassy, mouth hanging open. “ _ Please  _ help me repent, my dear.”

Crowley’s own mouth went completely dry, and his throat bobbed as he struggled to swallow. The spark of lust that shot through him was fiery hot, and he was suddenly filled with the demonic desire to do very bad things to the angel. Aziraphale had been reckless with his own safety yet again. The rage Crowley felt over that intolerable indiscretion threatened to boil over, spurring him towards infernal acts. “Take —” Crowley’s voice cracked and he had to clear his throat, “Take off your shoes and socks.” Demons  _ were _ inclined towards poetic justice.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and obeyed, sighing almost blissfully as he removed his shoes and unfastened those ridiculous sock garters before peeling the tartan stockings down and off. His pale feet were soft, plump and pink like the rest of him with a thin dusting of white hair on the tops of his perfect round toes. Crowley licked his lips and Aziraphale quirked one eyebrow at him, cheeks flushed.

“Hands and knees,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale complied, relieved to have been given a simple order to follow, overly eager to please. Keeping his knees and ankles together, he waited, watching out of the corner of his eye as Crowley circled him. Then Crowley slowly unbuckled his belt, and Aziraphale listened uneasily to the whisper of it sliding free, his heart racing. 

“You probably have no idea how painful consecrated ground is to a demon, but I’ll be blessed if you ever have a reason to know. You need to be more cautious by far, foolish Principality. Putting yourself in danger like you did tonight is unacceptable.”

Crowley knelt beside Aziraphale and wrapped his long fingers around one of the angel’s thick ankles. “Ssso if you’re seeking the pain of atonement, Angel,” Crowley hissed, bringing the end of the leather belt snapping down against the bottom of Aziraphale’s bare foot, eliciting a shocked yelp, “I will gladly provide it.”

Crowley whipped Aziraphale’s foot again, and though the angel jerked, Crowley kept a tight grip on his leg, holding him firmly in place. Aziraphale’s sole burned as the leather smacked against it, stinging the delicate skin again and again. When Crowley stopped only to move to Aziraphale’s other side, clearly intent on punishing the other foot, Aziraphale could bear it no longer. He pushed himself up with a sob, sitting atop his feet and hiding them beneath his ample backside, big wet eyes pleading for mercy as he shook his head at Crowley.

“None of that!” Crowley scolded. He tossed the bag of books in front of Aziraphale. “Here. Lie over that and hold tight to your precious books while I finish delivering your penance.” Aziraphale trembled, but did as he was told, bending over the bag and clutching it tightly to his chest. Crowley growled, “You keep this naughty bottom out of the way!”

A band of blazing hot fire erupted across the seat of Aziraphale’s trousers. Followed by another. And then another. He squeezed the bag, the buckle digging into his stomach, and howled a litany of  _ I’m sorry!’s _ as Crowley whipped his bottom thoroughly with the belt.

  
  


Satisfied he’d nipped any lingering protests in the bud, Crowley then grasped Aziraphale’s other ankle, ignoring the angel’s pitiful whimper. He lashed the narrow, braided leather against the pale foot, and Aziraphale tensed, spreading out his toes and writhing in Crowley’s unmoving grip as he wailed. Crowley repeated the blows until the bottom of Aziraphale’s foot was a vivid pink that matched the other.

Once released, Aziraphale gently drummed his stinging feet against the ground, shoulders shaking with his snivels. Watching, Crowley suddenly realized just how hard he was, cock twitching eagerly in his pants at the angel’s wriggling anguish. Consumed by lust, Crowley hastily unfastened his trousers and took out his erection. He knelt behind Aziraphale and spared a moment to bend forward and kiss the bottom of each well-chastised angelic foot. Someday, he vowed, when they weren’t in the middle of a demolished church during a Blitzkrieg, he would take his time to lave those glorious feet with his tongue, to nibble on the heels and suck each dainty toe in his mouth. For now, he merely perched over them and stroked himself off, grunting through an almost humiliatingly fast orgasm that shot hot streams of sticky seed all over Aziraphale’s pudgy pink feet.

  
  


Aziraphale felt Crowley’s cum warm and wet on the throbbing skin of his soles, and he let out a little gasp. Listening to Crowley take his own pleasure made him throb between the legs, but he dare not ask for relief. This was about his penitence, not his pleasure. 

After catching his breath, Crowley stood and said, “Come on, then.”

Aziraphale looked up and saw that Crowley was holding his shoes and socks, so he reluctantly stood on his bare, sore, cum-coated feet in the debris. Crowley turned on his heel and made towards the Bentley, and so Aziraphale had no choice but to follow. The ejaculate quickly turned cold and unpleasant as he tip-toed after Crowley, wincing at every sharp, jagged object that poked and stuck to his wet, tender feet. His chin wobbled, and he wiped furiously at the tears welling in his eyes.

  
  


After only a few moments, Crowley turned to Aziraphale and said softly, “All right, then. That’s enough.” Initially, Crowley had meant to remain strict, but being so harsh with his angel was proving more difficult than he’d imagined. He just couldn’t bear to listen to Aziraphale’s pitiful sniffles any longer. “You’re forgiven, Angel. Here, let me heal —”

“No!” Aziraphale interrupted. “Don’t! I-I need to feel it.” His cheeks flushed, and he looked pointedly away from Crowley. The demon watched in exasperation as Aziraphale continued moving, grimacing through walking over the rubble on his abused feet.

“Oh, this is ridiculous, Angel,” Crowley said, scooping him up into a bridal carry.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale squawked, pushing at the demon’s chest. “No! You’re …” his voice broke and fresh tears slipped down his cheeks, “You’re spoiling me again.”

“Hush!” Crowley chided. “No need for all that. I’ll spoil you all I want. We’re even.”

“Are we?” Aziraphale asked, his voice small. “It doesn’t feel like it. This isn’t fair at all!”

“Nonsense. You’ve been punished enough. You didn’t even get to orgasm,” He gave Aziraphale a lopsided grin and a wink, “Or have dinner. I’d say we’re more than square.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh. But surely there’s more I can do for you!”

“Well, there is one thing,” Aziraphale’s face lit up hopefully, “If you  _ really  _ want to make it up to me …”

Crowley dipped his head and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The angel stiffened at first, but then melted into the kiss, sighing softly against Crowley’s mouth and finally relaxing in the demon’s arms. He allowed Crowley to carry him to the Bentley with no further complaint, content that he had probably atoned enough for the time being.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)
> 
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End file.
